Halo: The Secret Spartan Redux
by Auralee
Summary: A revision of one of my first stories: see the original for the basic summary. No flames please!
1. Prologue

I'm sure there's quite a few people wondering why I'm redoing one of my stories. And in answer: I decided it was time for some revising (don't worry, I'll leave the old one up!). It's nowhere near finished yet, but I figured I'd post the first chapter of the revision and see what people thought of it. After that...well, we'll see. Reviews and constructed criticism are appreciated; flames will be used to clear the brush off the creekbank.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

**_Prologue-2515_**

**_North America_**

_ The little girl looked at her mother and father. She didn't understand what was going on, but knew the strange men in funny clothes were taking her somewhere. One of the strange men called to her, saying it was time to go._

_ "Come on, Mommy and Daddy! We're going away!"_

_ "No, sweetheart. You're going alone. Daddy and I can't come with you."_

_ She realized that she was going away for good, alone, and she didn't like that one bit. When the strange men came to put her in the funny-looking car, she clung to her mother's leg and refused to let go. The men couldn't pull her off: this particular four-year-old was exceptionally strong. They looked at her parents for assistance. Her mother knelt down to eye-level with the child._

_ "Sweetheart, I know this is hard, but it's for the best. I promise you'll be well taken care of, and Daddy or I will come visit you at times."_

_ "Promise?" The girl's voice wavered, scared and sad._

_ "Promise."_

_ She didn't really understand, but she knew her mommy had made a promise. Mommy never lied to her, and that was enough. She followed the men into the car and drove away from her home. Her mother and father waved her goodbye._

_ "Do you think we'll ever see her again?"_

_ "I promised her we'd visit, Pete. And I have no intention of breaking that promise. We've given the military our baby, so the least they could do is allow us to see her once in a while."_

_ "I hope so. Something doesn't feel right, though. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something wrong with this whole arrangement."_

_ "We'll deal with that when the time comes. Meanwhile, we'll have to trust the UNSC to take good care of our daughter for us."_

**Present day-September 4, 2552**

**Unknown Freighter Orbiting Earth**

**Sol System **

It was an old tramp freighter, almost not worth the bother to be kept in orbit anymore, but at this point the UNSC couldn't afford to waste a single bit of potential salvage. But if what she was hearing through the networks was true, the Covenant had just had their noses bloodied, which would buy them a little bit of a breather. _Which means now is the right time to get some answers. Provided I don't waste anymore time dawdling here._ Dark eyes narrowed as she suited up, donning a helmet and ensuring a fifteen minute air supply.

"You know they're going to go crazy once you get aboard that freighter, right? They're not going to just let you leave the system." The voice, so much like her own, echoed through the helmet's COM system.

"I know. But I have to know for sure if there's nothing left. I have to see it with my own eyes, and if there's any chance…." She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I have to try, at least—it's more than any of the others are planning to do."

"You suspect someone's hiding something, then?"

"Damn straight. Especially considering what skeletons the newest Security Council member has in his closet. And from what I understand, he's the reason no other ships are going to find answers."

The voice in her ear sounded irritated. "And you're sure you're not doing this to tweak his nose?"

"Well, there is that, but I'm not going just to piss him off. That's more of a bonus." She stepped to the airlock and shut the door, beginning the cycle that would take her into the vacuum of space: she would completely bypass the bulk of the security measures by simply going around them to the freighter, and she trusted her backup to handle the rest. As soon as the outer pressure door opened, she launched herself into space, straight towards the freighter: if her aim was even the slightest bit off, she was dead. Forcing herself to breath lightly, she drifted towards the freighter and, by the grace of whatever deity was watching, grabbed the outside of the airlock.

"Well, that wasn't so bad at all," the voice commented in her ear.

"I got lucky." Cycling herself through the airlock, she waited for the green light. When it came, she went through and made her way along the deserted corridors to the bridge—again, no mean feat since there was no gravity on board the ship, but she managed.

"Alright, we're here. Think you'll be able to power this bucket up?"

"Oh, easily. Just make sure you're able to fly it first."

"Ha ha," she grumbled, sliding a computer chip into an open receptacle. It took more time than she would have liked, but finally the freighter powered up, and her new pilot began moving towards the nearest Slipspace point.

"We've got an incoming message from Sydney HighCom. I'm using a blocking message, but they're pretty insistent." The voice came through the ship's audio systems now, instead of the helmet speakers.

"Are there any ships moving to stop us yet?"

"Not yet, but they might if we don't reply soon. Any ideas?"

She remained silent, considering all her options. Ignoring HighCom wasn't a good idea: they'd simply blow her out of the sky to prevent a security breach. And, as much fun as annoying ONI was, she really didn't feel like facing Colonel Ackerson quite yet, not if he had something to hide.

"Broadcast reply, text only: "ONI isn't telling the whole truth about Reach, I'm going to find what they're hiding. Appropriate precautionary measures are in effect. S-000."

"'S-000?' You really want to draw Ackerson down on you with that?"

"Not particularly, but hopefully it'll keep them busy for awhile. Long enough to get the hell out of here and head for Reach."

She really wasn't expecting it to work, and held her breath the whole time she powered up the Slipspace drives. Amazingly, no one opened fire, and she was able to make her jump unhindered. _Okay, they seem to be letting me off the hook—THIS time. But that was the easy part._ There was no time for second-guesses, now: she was on her way.

**HALO HALO HALO HALO HALO HALO HALO HALO**

A few weeks later, at exactly 1800 hours, the UNSC Security Council (except for one member) received a mission report that none of them expected to see:

_The Covenant did not glass all of Reach. A moderately-sized patch of the planet, though small in comparison with the whole, was left untouched. Closer examination revealed this area was the area surrounding a former ONI base of operations, codenamed CASTLE. It appeared that the Covenant were interrupted in the middle of an attempt to literally 'dig out' the installation. It was also apparent that, before their interruption, they were planning to hang around for a while: wrecked ships from the battle were piled in one area above Reach and construction of a platform had been started using pieces of the dead hulls, with the exception of those that had been destroyed sometime after the battle for Reach._

_ Since the Covenant were no longer in the area, and since there had to be a greater reason for their interest besides being a human installation, I landed nearby and took a look around. Underneath the CASTLE complex was something none of us would have expected to find, but apparently the Covenant were looking for: a vast room beneath the surface, with tunnels branching off in every direction, and inscribed with a multitude of symbols and glyphs. Evidence of a fairly recent battle leads me to believe that some UNSC members did, in fact, survive down there. Although the battle led to some significant damage, there was enough still intact to document for further study. A video feed will follow shortly. Considering the location of CASTLE base was placed directly above these tunnels, it is conceivable that ONI was aware of these tunnels, and of the possibility that the Covenant would come looking for them. However, there is absolutely no evidence of these tunnels in UNSC data networks, nor of any attempts to warn of an impending attack on Reach._

_Someone's been lying to us._


	2. Chapter 1: Homecoming

Back again, and with a slightly longer chapter than the last one! I won't summarize too much, since it might give the story away, so I'll just keep it short and sweet: enjoy! Constructive reviews are always welcome.

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

Chapter One: Homecoming

_"What've we got, Lorienna?"_

_ "Apparently, there's a team of Spartans that survived Reach, and Ackerson's planning a warm welcome home for them."_

_ "Warm welcome? From Ackerson? You must be joking!"_

_ "As warm as he ever gets, anyways. I get the feeling it's more of a PR campaign, though, giving the returning soldiers a hero's welcome and all that. Quite a few high-ranking officers are going to be there."_

_ "Good. More people for Ackerson to feel embarrassed in front of. Wait here."_

_ "And where exactly am I going to go, outside of ONI's own networks?"_

_ "Stay out of there for now. I'll be back in a few hours."_

**September 15, 2552 1345 hours**

**UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes **

**North America**

Unnoticed to anyone, a black-clad figure perched in a tree overlooking the parade grounds, with a 'borrowed' sniper rifle in her hands. Dark eyes scanned the field, scoping out any potential hazards before lighting on her target: ONI colonel James Ackerson. She adjusted the sniper rifle to allow better visibility, fighting a surge of bitter anger as she watched the brass welcome the surviving members of the Reach massacre: four SPARTAN-II supersoldiers and one lone Marine sergeant. _So, the surviving Spartans receive a heroes' welcome? What about me? Haven't I done as much as them, if not a little more? When will I get that kind of acknowledgement?_ Unfortunately, she doubted that she had a snowball's chance in hell of that happening, since according to military files she did not officially exist. The only evidence of her life was in classified Office of Naval Intelligence files, which most people never got to see. It was unfair, to say the least, but she knew there wasn't a whole lot that could be done about it, short of treason and data terrorism.

The welcoming reception was starting to wind down. Watching through the scope, she noticed Ackerson scowling when he thought no one was looking. _Hello, Ackerson, you sadistic bastard. Boy, have I got a surprise for _you_ when you turn this way._ Smirking to herself, she watched silently as General Mark West—one of the few high-ranking officers she genuinely respected—looked around and turn to Ackerson. Her smirk widened to a grin as she directed a SpecOps mike towards their location, keeping Ackerson locked in her scope—this was going to be fun.

_"Colonel Ackerson, are you sure this area is secure?"_

_ "Positive, General West. I have my best men in position and on surveillance. Nothing can get in or out without our knowing it."_

_ "That's good to hear, Colonel. It's rare that I see such confidence in our soldiers from someone in ONI. And I have your personal assurance that no one can get past your perimeter?"_

_ "Complete assurance, of course."_

_ "Of course."_ West paused and looked in her direction again, and she swore she saw him smile briefly. _"I would be surprised, though, if a certain someone _didn't_ make the attempt."_

_ "BLADE? She knows better. And I highly doubt she's even aware that something is happening right now."_ The man sounded so arrogant, so sure of himself; she was about to fix that.

While Ackerson was still facing her, and before he had the chance to turn away, she squeezed the trigger; the report of the sniper rifle rang out clear, and Ackerson went down. _Right between the eyes, you asshole,_ she smiled maliciously as she dropped the rifle and swung through the trees. The round she'd nailed him with hadn't killed him, unfortunately, but he'd be out cold for about three hours. By the time anyone showed up to investigate, all they'd find would be a sniper rifle, the SpecOps mike, and a canister of paint pellets.

Meanwhile, the Spartans were scattering, trying to evade any further sniper rounds and hoping to spot the sniper; Linda swore she saw a shadow moving in the trees and fired three rounds from her assault rifle. Marines were scrambling for cover, and general chaos ran rampant. The only one unperturbed was General West, who was busy shaking his head at the stain between Ackerson's eyes and chuckling to himself.

"Well, now, what are we going to do with you this time? Although I have to say

your aim is just about perfect." He noticed one of the Spartans heading toward him.

"Sir, perhaps you'd better take cover."

"No need, son. Whoever it was got what they came for," he said, motioning to the prone figure of Colonel Ackerson, complete with red paint blotch between his eyes. "Non-lethal rounds. The shooter wasn't aiming to kill outright, just to send a message. He'll be unconscious for a while, but that's about all." He was still smiling slightly as he walked off to meet the search teams, a behavior which puzzled the Spartan. _Although, there is a lot of hard feelings between ONI and the regular brass_, he thought. _Maybe that's why he was so amused._ The Spartan's team frequency kicked in, and he heard SPARTAN-117's voice: the Master Chief was taking charge of the situation.

"Okay, Linda managed to get a bead on the sniper's position. Let's see if we can't catch him, whoever he is. Move out."

The woman swung away through the trees as rapidly as she could, doing a fairly decent simian impression, and dropping back to earth only when she was reasonably sure she was safe. _OK, everyone back there is scared shitless, and Ackerson's out cold, which means I should be able to get back to base fairly easily. Job well done._ She hadn't come away completely unscathed, though: a single bullet had lodged in her shoulder, which she stopped and bandaged as best she could. It wasn't her best field dressing, but it would suffice until she could get it looked at back on base. A mental pat on the back later, and the woman was ready to get moving—or at least she was before she sensed something moving nearby, trying to flank her. _Oh shit!_ _I forgot about them! _The whole point of this PR job was to welcome back the surviving SPARTAN-IIs, the best in the UNSC—and now the very same people who had her cornered in what was practically her own backyard. _Time to get the HELL out of here, like NOW!_ Mentally reviewing her knowledge of the local land and trying to come up with a plan, she sprinted off to the eastern edge of the woods. There were a number of tall oaks there, difficult to climb unless you were capable of jumping to the higher branches. They were her best chance, as long as she could outdistance the pursuit and get to them. She was a few kilometers away—literally within sight of the first few trees—when a figure in green armor blocked her path, assault rifle leveled. Turning almost perfectly on a dime, she spotted two others on either side, and the one behind her moved up—she was boxed in. _A textbook maneuver, not that I'm really surprised by that._ Thankful that she had thought to grab a mask for her face, she waited to see how things would turn out.

Having caught up with the shooter, the four Spartans boxed him in to prevent him from escaping, keeping him in their gunsights. Activating his suit's external speakers, the Master Chief spoke, his voice a little too calm considering this unknown person had taken a shot at a UNSC colonel.

"There's nowhere left for you to run. You may as well surrender."

The shooter turned and looked at him. Whoever he was, he didn't look military: the shooter was wearing all-black, true, but all except the boots were civilian garments. His face was covered, except for a pair of piercing dark eyes that stared at him without fear. In fact, there was nothing in the sniper's eyes but cold, calculating emotion. He didn't make a move, almost as if he were letting them bring him in, but the Spartan knew better than to take that at face value and moved closer, keeping his rifle up. As the Chief came closer, the sniper moved faster than any of them had anticipated: he ran towards a downed tree, used it as a ramp, and leaped over the Master Chief, no easy task considering the Spartan in his armor stood nearly two meters tall. The Spartan reacted just as quickly, grabbing a booted foot as it passed his head, catching the sniper off-guard and nearly breaking bone. The sniper twisted in midair with the motion of the hand attached to his ankle, getting enough torque to break loose. He hit the ground hard, and let out an oddly high-pitched grunt as he landed, but he had successfully managed to get out of the box set up by the four-Spartan team. Rolling quickly to his feet, he sprinted off into the shadows of the trees. The four Spartans closed in, but by the time they were able to catch up, there was no one there.

The woman perched in the shadowy branches of an oak, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and ankle, listening as the Spartans caught up to her last position. Making as little movement as possible, she listened quietly, waiting for them to leave so she could get out of there. _Come on, hurry up and go away, I'm not here! How long does it take to figure that out? _Tightening her grip on a branch, she listened as a group of Marines approached. Based on their formation and movements, she guessed it was a search team deployed to track her down. _Can't say I'm too surprised, they had to do _something_ once I put Ackerson on his ass._

"General West said you'd gone this way. Did you find the sniper?" the leader, a lieutenant, asked.

"We tracked him here, sir," one of the Spartans replied. From the voice, it was the one who'd told her to surrender. If she had to guess, he was SPARTAN-117, leader of the Spartan squads and the only one to make it on board the _Pillar of Autumn_.

"Where did he go?" one of the other Marines asked.

"We're still searching, but I think he's long gone from here, otherwise we would have found him."

"Alright, Marines, you heard the man. Let's move out!" The Marines formed up and followed their lieutenant out of the oak grove. The Spartans, on the other hand, stayed there for several more minutes. Why they decided to stay put, she had no clue, but she was quite cramped by the time they finally moved out. Keeping still for a few more seconds in the tree, she listened to be sure the area was clear before dropping soundlessly. Unfortunately, the landing was hard on her ankle, and she winced as her left leg came close to crumpling under her weight; swallowing the barrage of swear words that came to mind, she made it to the edge of the tree line and slipped back to the base. _Lesson learned: never underestimate a group of Spartans, especially if you decide to put a paintball between their CO's eyes. _Keeping to the shadows and moving with complete silence, she headed to her bunk at the nearby military base where she'd lived for almost thirty-seven years. If she was right—and she usually was—there would be some questions to answer later.

The Spartans stood and watched as the sniper dropped from the trees and slipped into the shadows. Since Colonel Ackerson had been shot with non-lethal rounds, the Master Chief had concluded that the sniper was no immediate threat, but still felt obligated to track him down. His conclusion, however, was somewhat shaken by the man's escape: no normal human should be able to move that quickly. On the other hand, someone like that would be fairly easy to locate another time, with the proper resources. Besides, he'd seen a small amount of blood on the sniper's clothing during the escape earlier, indicating he'd been hit by a bullet from Linda's battle rifle. Unless he was a trained medic, the wound would make it fairly easy to find him, identify him, and deal with him when it was least expected. As they watched him slip away into the shadows, they tried to plan their next move.

"We almost had him," SPARTAN-104, Fred, grumbled. "And why are we letting him go, anyways?"

"He could have easily killed that colonel, but purposely didn't. And remember General West's conclusions? He was trying to send a message," SPARTAN-043, Will, replied.

"Which means the general knows who our shooter is, or at least knows more than he's telling. Our sniper also has one of Linda's bullets in him, somewhere—we can use that to track him down," the Master Chief interjected. "Just keep alert and on your toes: we don't know what's going to happen next." The other Spartans nodded assent and they headed back to the base for debriefing.

**1500 hours**

**Camp Hayes**

The woman stood at the window of her bunkhouse, mentally turning over the events from earlier, when a soft, disembodied voice spoke in her ear.

"I've been listening to the chatter on base. You've put a few people in an uproar again: what did you do this time?"

"Just a little target practice," she replied with a smile, amusement laced in her voice. She never got tired of the AI's blunt attitude, which was too much like her own. "Unfortunately, I almost got caught."

"The Spartans?"

"Who else? Thank goodness I was near some oaks when they caught up, otherwise I'd never have gotten away."

"I'm surprised that you actually did manage to get away, all things considered. According to the chatter, they had you boxed in. And yet, somehow, you're here and no one's trying to break down the door."

"You have a point there. I don't know how I managed it, unless they let me go. And why they would do that, I have no clue. Maybe I just got lucky. Or maybe there's something bigger going on here, something ONI's planning."

She didn't say anything more, and the AI decided not to ask. The woman undid the top of her jacket and leaned against the wall, the adrenaline from earlier starting to wear off and leaving her feeling a little fatigued. A sudden flash of pain from her shoulder, matched by one from her ankle, brought her back to full awareness: she'd forgotten about her injuries. Limping to her bedroom, she pulled out a first aid kit and some surgical tools. This wasn't her first injury, and she'd learned a long time ago how to patch herself up—and to keep medical supplies within reach at all times. Her ankle was severely sprained, but thankfully that was all it was. Still, she wrapped it thoroughly before turning her attention to her shoulder.

"You really should get that looked at," the AI voiced as she dug the bullet out.

"And risk some awkward questions? No, better wait until the heat dies down first." As she tended the wound, her mind wandered back to her encounter with the four Spartans. _They really are as good as I've heard,_ she thought grudgingly._ Too bad they're ONI's toys. And who knows what they have planned for me this time? If the Spartans are involved, it certainly can't be anything good!_

**September 16 2552 1030 hours**

**ONI Building**

**UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes**

**North America**

Master Chief SPARTAN-117, John, exited the debriefing area with his three remaining comrades: SPARTANs 104, 058, and 043(Fred, Linda, and Will). He was uneasy about the way ONI had handled the debriefing, especially regarding the shooting of Colonel Ackerson, head of ONI. Even after giving his report on the pursuit, he wondered just why he'd allowed the sniper to escape: it certainly wasn't his usual method. Perhaps the battles with the Covenant had made him soft? No, that couldn't be right….While he was pondering this, he and his team found themselves faced by a woman heading in the very direction they had just come from. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid, except for a few loose wisps framing a rounded face. A thin white scar drew a jagged line across one cheek, forming an odd counter-point to a circular scar over her left eye; her mouth was compressed in a severe line, and brown eyes flashed angrily at anyone in her way. She was thin, but solidly built, and almost as tall as the Master Chief, which was unusual by itself. Even more unusual was the fact that she appeared to be wearing a blacksuit instead of a standard uniform, and she was openly armed: strapped to her waist was a pair of combat knives, and John was sure he'd spotted an M6D pistol tucked into a belt at the back of the suit. She slowed down just long enough to glare at the four Spartans before bulldozing into the briefing area; her dark eyes were sparkling with intense anger, and her entire body was tensed, in spite of her nearly-fluid motions, motions that seemed familiar to the Master Chief. One of the guards tried to stop her, but she stopped him from speaking with barely a glance. The Master Chief looked at his teammates, who seemed equally puzzled by the new arrival.

"Who was that, and why does she seem familiar?"

"Who, indeed?" Will muttered. "I didn't think anyone was allowed to be armed this far from the front lines. And who would willingly wear a blacksuit?"

"Hard to say, but the way she was moving I almost feel sorry for the officers in there," Linda smirked. "If looks could kill, we'd all be dead by now."

"No kidding, especially with those knives she had on her," Fred added. "You'd think she's an expert in hand-to-hand combat."

"I'm not sure if she'd call herself an expert, but she's certainly extremely proficient," a new voice added, and the Spartans turned to see General West, the base commander, standing behind them. West smiled to himself as the four Spartans snapped off a quick salute. _I wonder if they realize they've already met her. On the other hand, it might be fun watching them figure out exactly what she is, and why ONI has it in for her._ "Consider yourself lucky, she doesn't usually come into this building, and on the rare occasion she does she's usually gone within a few days' time on a mission."

"Sir?" The Master Chief's voice was questioning. West motioned for them to keep moving, since they were blocking traffic in the hall. He walked with the group, taking his time to answer the Spartan.

"She's one of ONI's best operatives, codenamed BLADE. They typically save her for high-risk or covert operations, and she hasn't let them down yet. No matter how high the odds are stacked against her, she somehow manages to complete the mission. Much like you Spartans, now that I think about it." West paused and took a slow breath; he needed to phrase this next part carefully. "Blade is one of the best soldiers in the military, but there are more than a few people that claim she's 'too valuable to lose'. They refuse to send her to the front lines, no matter how many times she requests the transfer. And that usually means she's got a bit of a short temper—which is probably why she got called in for debriefing today."

"Why was she armed, sir?" Fred asked; part of him was itching to see how good she was with those knives.

"Mostly for her training. Blade is nearly religious when it comes to combat training, and somewhat paranoid—unsurprising, since she works almost exclusively for ONI. Every morning she trains with her knives, and spends the rest of her time either keeping herself occupied or getting into shouting matches with the brass." West chuckled as an echo of one such shouting match floated down the hall after them; from the sounds of things ONI was getting blasted with both barrels. "She can be a bit of a loose-cannon sometimes, but once you earn her trust you've got a real ally; the hard part is convincing her to trust you."

"Sir, if she's such a loose-cannon, why was she allowed in the military?" Will's tone was skeptical.

"Classified, son. Just like anything else involving ONI, including you. Only top officials are allowed access to those types of files." The general paused at an intersecting hallway and regarded the Master Chief. "ONI keeps her under wraps, even I don't have complete access to her CSV, and she lives on my base. And, frankly, there's no telling how far they'll go to keep it that way. Better to just pretend you never saw her, or ignore her when you do see her." Turning, West walked down the new corridor. John followed after him, intent on asking one final question.

"Sir, if you wanted us to ignore Blade, why did you tell us about her?"

West chuckled. "You're a smart man, Master Chief, smarter than I realized. And ONI would probably go crazy if they knew just how much I told you. But there's a lot more to Blade than you realize, more than ONI will ever tell anyone, and a lot more than I think they even realize themselves. Shame no one will ever get to see her records, they're locked up so tight that only a master hacker would be able to get to them, and even they'd have a tough time of it."

John nodded slowly. "I think I understand, sir. Thank you." With that, West nodded and walked off. Turning back the way he'd come, he saw that Fred, Will, and Linda were waiting for him at the end of the corridor. He looked at them all.

"I think we need to have a word with Cortana. If she can't find out about Blade, no one can."

**1500 hours**

**Camp Hayes**

As predicted, General West dropped in for a "surprise" visit. Though she really didn't have it in her to deal with company after the briefing this morning, she wasn't about to turn him away. _Besides, a friendly face—well, non-hostile, at least—might make things feel a bit better._

"I had a feeling you'd be dropping in, General. How was the welcoming ceremony?" She kept things deliberately light and vague, even though she knew damn well that West probably already knew.

"It went off fairly well," West replied, a faint sound of amusement in his voice. "Colonel Ackerson had a minor accident at the end of the ceremony, though. Caused quite an uproar." He smirked when she inclined her head in silent acknowledgement. "But I guess you already know that."

"I don't miss as much around here as they wish I did. You'd think they'd have learned their lesson by now." She snorted in disgust, twirling a listening device between her fingers, one of many ONI kept trying to place in her bunkhouse. "Did you happen to notice how Ackerson reacted to the Spartans?"

"He seemed quite polite, if arrogant. Then again, I never met a spook who wasn't arrogant to some extent. Why do you ask?"

"I was watching him particularly closely. For a split second, he looked completely disgusted. I wasn't too surprised, considering how much he hates the SPARTAN program. I have a feeling he was there solely for the PR campaign, otherwise I doubt he'd have shown up at all."

"How do you know he hates the program?"

"The same way I know everything else that goes on in the UNSC." She nodded at a computer terminal in one corner, and West cringed.

"One of these days that's going to come back to haunt you, especially if ONI finds out."

"They have to catch me first, and they haven't yet. Slimy bastards." The woman paused, brushing a loose strand of brown hair behind one ear. "If they can't even properly assassinate me, I sincerely doubt they'll catch me snooping around in their mainframes."

"So you're sure it's ONI that's behind the attacks?" West asked.

"I don't know who else it could be. No one outside ONI knows exactly who and what I am, and the few that do know or suspect something don't have a complete picture. The Covenant haven't found their way to Earth yet, and the rebels are too scattered to be massing for retribution, not to mention they aren't remotely sneaky enough for this." She stood up and walked to the window. It showed a beautiful view of distant mountains and sky, one that normally calmed her, but today she wasn't cheered by the view. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and sad.

"I'm tired of this, General. I'm tired of having to make sure everything is safe before turning around a corner, worrying about my family, worrying about the Covenant." Her voice got louder, a well-known sign of her frustration, as she continued, "I'm tired of fighting off attacks that shouldn't be happening in the first place. I'm tired of being stuck here when I should be fighting out there. I'm tired of not existing, of being nothing more than a 'mistake' listed in ONI's classified files." She took a deep breath, her fists clenching and unclenching as she tried to reign in her temper.

"There's nothing I can do, you know that. I wish I could, believe me, but my hands are tied as much as yours are."

"I know, but you at least listen. That's more than anyone else here does. And, believe it or not, it helps to know _someone_ is taking me seriously."

After he left the bunkhouse, West recalled his earlier conversation with the Master Chief. He had certainly seemed curious about the mysterious operative. _Not that that's really surprising. I wonder what will happen when they realize she's a SPARTAN-II, as well. Or maybe they already have…_He smiled at the thought. _I wonder if they've asked Cortana yet. If anyone could find out about her, the AI definitely can._


	3. Chapter 2: Enigmas

My apologies for the lengthy delay in postings-unfortunately life tends to get in the way. But at any rate, here's part three of the revamped story! Suggestions/constructive criticism are always appreciated, flames will be used to defrost our driveway (cuz it is REALLY FREAKING COLD HERE!).

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo.

Chapter Two: Enigmas

**September 15, 2552 1132 hours**

**UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes **

**North America**

The Master Chief and his three friends, as soon as West had departed, headed for the nearest computer terminal they could find—West had succeeded in rousing their curiosity. Making sure the area was deserted, the Chief inserted a data chip into a data port. After a brief moment, a female figure appeared hovering in mid-air, suspended over a holo-tank.

"Hello, Chief. What do you need?" Her voice was warm, friendly, and more than a little inquisitive.

"There's a soldier on base called Blade, supposedly an ONI operative, and I want to know more about her. Her CSV is classified under the highest levels, though."

"Sounds like a challenge," Cortana was practically rubbing her hands in glee. "Say no more, Master Chief. I'll get right on it."

As Cortana's image vanished from the holo-tank, John turned to his friends. "If anyone can find out about this mystery soldier, Cortana can."

Fred was skeptical. "Why do we need to know? It's not like she's a Spartan."

"Whether she is or not, she could still be a threat. Remember when we passed her in the hall? The look on her face stopped a Marine in his tracks—a security guard, no less. That just doesn't happen. And if I'm right, she could easily be that sniper on the parade grounds: remember how he got away from us? He moved the exact same way she did before she pushed past us."

Will shook his head. "Do you think she's a Spartan, John?"

"I don't know. I don't see how it's possible for her to be one of us, but she's certainly not a normal Marine."

In less time than it should have taken, Cortana's figure reappeared over the holo-tank.

"Not much on here, considering she's supposed to be a soldier. Her CSV is almost completely blank, and what's here has more than the usual amount of ONI blackouts. There was something unusual in her file, though."

Cortana opened her hand and a piece of data floated upwards, expanding to display a name and serial number:

**MORISSON, LAURA E SPARTAN-000 CODENAME: BLADE CLASSIFIED LEVEL X-RAY**

The group of Spartans stared at the data, unable to believe exactly what they were seeing. There was complete silence, and it was Will who finally put everyone's shock into words, "Command lied to us. We're not the last of the Spartans. This 'Blade,' whoever she is, is one of us."

Cortana brushed away the floating evidence, an expression of concentration on her features. It was certainly strange, seeing a baffled look on a normally omniscient AI.

"There's an AI routing code here that I don't recognize; it doesn't conform to any known ONI protocols. And they've been in and out of this file multiple times without leaving much of a trail."

"Covenant AI? Or a rebel?" John's mind jumped to the most immediate conclusions. Cortana shook her head .

"A Covenant AI wouldn't be stable enough to get this far in, and the rebels don't have an AI capable of hacking into a restricted file. No, this is something else entirely. The question is, what?"

While the group was trying to absorb this new information, a new voice came from the terminal speaker. It was a woman's voice, warm and tinged with laughter, but slightly distorted, as though it were the synthesized voice of an AI.

"Unauthorized access to restricted files. This connection will be terminated immediately." There was a brief chuckle, and the voice continued, "Nice try."

The image on the holo-tank wavered, and for a moment Cortana disappeared. When she did reappear, she looked extremely irritated.

"Definitely an AI, but nothing like I've ever seen before. It used an outside terminal and bypassed the security protocols as well as I could have done. I barely managed to catch the trail before it vanished: whoever it is, they're almost as good as I am."

"It definitely didn't sound like an outside AI," Fred mused. "Until that bit at the end, it sounded like a typical ONI intelligence. No offense, Cortana."

"None taken," the AI answered, still sounding a little irritated.

"We know more than we did before," John's voice was steady and firm, belying his confusion. But he had made a decision. "We know she's a Spartan, and that should be easy enough to confirm. Then we'll figure out the rest of it."

"And just how are we supposed to confirm it?" Will asked.

"General West said she trains every morning," Fred replied, grinning—on an unarmored Spartan, that was an unusual sight. "I'm curious how good she is with those knives."

Remembering the deadly look the woman had had on her face earlier, John had to fight back a grimace. _This isn't going to end well._

**September 16, 2552 0812 hours**

**UNSC Reserve Base Camp Hayes Training Facility**

**North America**

Laura was finishing up the first portion of her basic workout when she noticed four people watching her practice; ordinarily that wouldn't be unusual, except she knew that only ODSTs were dumb enough to approach her during her workouts, and never in small groups. She subtly looked them over as she packed away her knives: tall, solidly built, and pale beyond belief. It didn't take much guessing to figure out who—or rather, what—they were, but she kept her mouth shut and her eyes down: surprise was often the key to success, and she had learned a long time ago how to turn it to her advantage. Sneaking another glance, Laura noticed one in particular that stood out from the group: a grim-looking man, brown hair, with intense dark eyes and an air of command. _Kind of like Dad, only better looking in a really rugged way….snap out of it, girl!_ Laura quickly focused her attention on stowing away her exercise gear; while she hated to cut her routine short, she figured it would be a good idea to get out of there before something bad happened. Since very few people dared to interrupt her workouts, this couldn't mean anything good.

"You looked pretty good in there. Feel up to a little sparring?" one of the newcomers asked. Laura looked him over: fairly plain features, and silver-streaked black hair. Recalling the ONI files she'd hacked earlier, she remembered he was the close combat specialist of the group, and frequently used combat knives. _Good thing I grabbed an exercise outfit with sleeves this time,_ she thought as she directed a piercing stare at the stranger. _If they see that hole in my shoulder I'm pretty much screwed._

"I don't spar," she replied calmly, a slight edge in her voice. "If I did, I'd kill half the people on this base within a month. And I highly doubt your friends would appreciate you being my first victim."

"Maybe, but I think I'll take my chances. It's been awhile since I got a decent workout in," the stranger commented. "And I have a feeling you'd enjoy having an actual opponent for once." _Wow, can you say 'set-up'? This is _WAY_ too convenient, he has to be a plant….or worse._ Still, she kept her face calm and her voice even.

"Well, when you put it that way, how could I possibly refuse?" she answered, sliding her gym bag to the edge of the ring.

At first, they circled each other, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Laura decided it would be her; she feinted left, then attacked from the right only to be blocked. She spun behind him slightly and kicked out as a counter to the block, caught her opponent in the butt, saw him sprawl on the floor, and waited for him to get back up. He took his time, but she could tell that it was purposeful: he was watching her, evaluating, gauging any possible strengths and weaknesses.

"Any time you're ready," she taunted, deliberately baiting him; it was a trick she used regularly with the Helljumpers, and it usually pissed them off to the point where they attacked. The stranger refused to rise to the bait, however, and circled her slowly, eventually throwing a jab to her left side. _Guess he thinks that's my blind side, considering my scar,_ Laura smirked, grabbing his wrist and yanking him off-balance before bringing her foot down hard on his shin. Not even pausing, her elbow jammed into his solar plexes and she spun away, dodging a palm strike to her head. Not quick enough—a fist connected with her ribs, and she almost didn't avoid the kick to her leg. Bracing her hands on the floor, she flipped over his head and hooked her feet around his ankles, pulling him off his feet. Unsuccessfully, since he managed to keep his footing; Laura rolled away and came up, attempting a kick, but he caught her leg and twisted. She moved with the force, spinning and landing on her hands, then flipping herself upright. Blocking another kick, she lashed out with an open-hand strike and caught him in the stomach. He doubled over, and Laura moved in, only to receive a blow to her ribs. Ignoring the pain, she spun behind him, but he caught her fist; she braced, trying to force him back, but he wasn't giving up.

"You're never going to win this," the stranger whispered through gritted teeth.

"Is that so?" she rasped, a strange gleam in her eye. Without warning she bent backwards, sending them tumbling into a roll. Faster than he was expecting, she was on her feet and charging.

Simple sparring forgotten, the two combatants became a blur of motion. Both were experts in hand-to-hand combat, but Laura had a few tricks up her sleeve. Having become enamored of martial arts, she had studied as many as she could, which gave her a significant advantage: most soldiers were only trained in basic hand-to-hand combat techniques, and rarely felt the need to learn anything else. Pulling various stances, strikes, and techniques from her memory, she began to gain the upper hand, where before they were fairly evenly matched. After a short while, though longer than she'd expected, she brought him to his knees, with one hand positioned on his carotid artery.

"I'd stop now, if I were you. One finger is all I need—a little even pressure here and you're dead." Her voice was soft, yet deadly, as she pressed lightly on the artery. As she removed her fingertip from the man's neck, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Tell your masters in ONI that if they really want me dead, they'll have to do a lot better."

The sound of applause from a corner of the room brought Laura back to her senses; she released the SPARTAN-II and backed away quickly, one hand automatically reaching towards her waist. Belatedly she realized her knives were still in her gym bag, so she simply clenched them tightly as a man in a colonel's uniform approached. It didn't take a genius to identify who he was, considering his shoulder patch marked him as part of the Office of Naval Intelligence.

"Well done, Blade. I'm surprised you didn't finish him."

"Unlike some I could name, I don't kill people in cold blood," Laura replied, her voice icy cold and her eyes narrowed with an expression that seemed a mixture of disgust and absolute hate. She turned her back to the colonel, and moved to gather up her equipment, watching the man from the corner of her eye; it couldn't have been coincidence that he was suddenly there watching her. _He never shows an interest in my daily life, what the hell is he doing here?_ Choosing not to dignify him with any further reply, she grabbed her bag and walked out of the gym, long strides carrying her back to her bunkhouse…and privacy.

**HALO**

**Adams Medical Facility 1300 hours**

**Camp Hayes**

Dr. Frances Gedeon was taking a brief rest in the middle of a difficult day. There were a number of patients in need of surgery and other forms of medical help. In addition, ONI had ordered physicals for the Spartans, which had backed things up considerably. _It's going to be a very long day,_ she thought to herself.

"Rough day, Mom?" The voice could have been a duplicate of her own, only this one was quieter and far more serious. Dr. Gedeon turned to see a tall, black-clad woman standing behind her, holding a brown paper bag in one hand. In spite of her fatigue, she smiled.

"Laura Elizabeth Morisson, what are you doing here at this hour of the day?"

"I finished my workout earlier than usual and felt bored, so I figured I'd drop in and treat you to lunch."

"I don't think I'll be able to eat today, we're just that busy. I just stopped for a brief rest when you came in." The older woman sat down with a heavy sigh. "It's going to be a VERY long day. I may even have to stay overnight."

"Any way I can help?" Laura set the bag down on her mother's desk and wiped her hands on her blacksuit. "I may not be medically trained, but I am capable of following simple directions."

"I think we can find something for you to do, as long as you don't mind getting your hands dirty." Laura smiled at her mother's humor: Dr. Gedeon knew full well that she didn't mind in the least, so long as there was a good reason for it.

"Just show me what to do, Mom."

Laura was busy for the rest of the day helping her mother with her patients. Since she wasn't an actual doctor or nurse, there were limits on what she could do, but she assisted however she could. It was mostly first aid or minor patching up: inserting biofoam, applying adhesive dressings, or stitching up larger wounds. She and her mother were just cleaning up an operating table when another patient was brought in, followed by three companions. This particular patient seemed to have a significant tear in his Achilles tendon, and Dr. Gedeon noticed a large amount of swelling. What shocked them both was the man's face: he didn't seem to notice the obvious pain, and the only clues to his condition were his biomonitors and the tight lines around his mouth. As she examined him, Dr. Gedeon recognized the man as being one of the Spartans her staff had examined earlier. _That explains his reaction to the pain,_ she realized.

"Find me some ice, and prep for more stitches. We've got a sprain, possibly a torn tendon."

"Yes, ma'am." Without any other word, Laura was gone. Within moments she had returned with the required materials, along with a topical anesthetic. While Dr. Gedeon got to work on mending the injury, Laura silently escorted the injured Spartan's companions to a nearby waiting area; even though she'd seen them earlier at the gym, this was the first chance she had to get a close look, and she wasn't planning on wasting it. A woman with short red hair looked at Laura as they exited the operating room; Laura simply offered a carefully reassuring look.

"He'll be fine, the good doctor knows her stuff. Lord knows she's had to patch me up often enough." Her eyes narrowed, assessing the trio of Spartans carefully. "Though I'm surprised he ended up injured in the first place."

"He twisted his ankle on the parade grounds. Some idiot left a concussion mine along the treeline after a drill." An iron-hard voice answered from the woman's left. Laura sized him up quickly, taking in as much as she could with a brief glance. _Strong, handsome, but serious,_ she thought. _Probably doesn't get much shore leave._ Then a chill went up her spine. _That's where I walk in the evenings! I'll bet anything that was a trap meant for me—no one just 'forgets' about a concussion mine!_ She passed it off quickly, and turned back toward the operating room.

"I'll have to inform Dr. Gedeon, just for formalities' sake. I wouldn't worry too much, though, your friend should be fine." As she left, Laura reflected on how the Spartans acted like they didn't to recognize her. _Definitely not stupid,_ she mused. _I'll have to be careful around them._

**HALO **

As Laura walked away, Linda turned to John.

"She certainly doesn't act like a soldier, does she?"

"No, she doesn't, but you saw her CSV, what little there was of it. And she's a Spartan, remember?"

An opening door caused the conversation to cease, as Dr. Gedeon and Laura escorted Fred out. He was leaning heavily on Laura, but she seemed not to notice. Dr. Gedeon turned to face the group.

"He'll be fine, but he should stay off his feet for a few days so the swelling can go down."

"Yes, ma'am."

As the four Spartans left, they heard the woman's voice behind them:

"I guess I'd better ship out for the day. See you tomorrow, Mom?"

"Maybe. I could use a hand here around the office, tomorrow looks like it'll be busy."

"Gotcha. I'll pop in if I have nothing better to do."

"I'm sure you will." The doctor's voice held no small amount of amusement.


End file.
